WSCX Radio Station in Savannah, Georgia, isn't prepared for new late-night DJ Blaze Alexander. She’s way over the top for such a deeply religious city in the Deep South, yet at the same time, they can't seem to get enough of her.

So every night from midnight to dawn, the sultry heat of the new Steam Queen envelops the city as she breathes her naughty suggestions into their ears. As they sit and listen to her deep, throaty voice purring and moaning her hypnotic words of passion, the unsuspecting city becomes drugged by the magic spell she weaves around them.

But while Blaze is making cold beds hot and bringing lovers closer together, her arms remain empty because she can’t forget a dark night when Satan’s Breath blew hot and strong. Can she exorcise the demon that took hold of her on a long-ago night that keeps her away from the only man she will ever love, or will Satan’s Breath rise again and finish what it started so long ago?

EXCERPT:Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of an erotic nature.

While a commercial was on, the previous deejay slipped out, and Blaze slipped in. She put on her headphones, examined the console, then looked out at the sound man.

“In three, two ...” He quickly pointed at her and said, “You’re on the air!”

Blaze lowered her mouth to the microphone as if she were going to eat it, and her deep, dark, smoky voice echoed through the airwaves, soft and warm.

“Hello, Savannah. If that little ol' needle on your radio is pointing up to 103.5, then don't move it, sweetheart. You've just tuned in to Station KCBS in good old Savannah, GA. This is Blaze Alexander, your Queen of Steam and I'm going to be here from midnight to dawn, just for you.”

“God, what a voice,” Greg mumbled as he stared with amazement through the glass at the beautiful redhead operating the console.

“Come on, you sweet sinners, I'm here for the night, so how about you and I get to know each other real well.”

Blaze reached around and put on some music while her dark, soothing voice continued mesmerizing the night owls of Savannah.

“Mix a drink, cuddle a little, and get comfortable, because I'm your playmate for tonight.”

Greg's eyes widened at the veiled suggestions she was making. Turning, he went back into his office and turned on his radio, listening closely as Blaze's suggestive remarks set fire to the airwaves.

“The other night, a cop stopped me. I asked him, What's the matter, darlin’, did you get lonely? He didn't say anything, just started actin' real tough, you know? He grabbed me and leaned me over the car.” She emitted a deep, raspy chuckle. “He didn't fool me. I knew what he was up to. After he put the cuffs on me, he said, real official like, You'll have to come quietly. When I saw how well he filled out that uniform, I had to tell him, I'm real sorry, darlin', but I never ... come quietly.”

Greg almost swallowed his tongue. He jumped up, slammed out of his office, and ran toward the glass cubicle that surrounded her console. When he got there, he began swinging his arms to get her attention.

Blaze looked up at Greg's horrified face.

“Hey, sugar, listen to the music a while and I'll be right back, okay? Someone's tryin' to get my attention.” Looking at Greg in anger, she clenched her teeth while trying to maintain an air of seduction, and leaned even closer to the microphone. “Mmmm, I love it when they follow me everywhere I go.”

She quickly jumped up and opened the door. “What in hell do you want? Can't you see I'm in the middle of my show?”

“Show? This isn't a show, it's pornography, pure and simple.”

“What have I said that couldn't be said over the air in the bright light of day? Have I used any foul language?”

“No, not in so many words. But there have been suggestions, innuendoes. And what about that dirty ...”

“As long as I don't say 'fuck' on the air, Bucko, you’re safe. Now let me get back to my audience before I lose them.” She turned and slammed back into the booth. As she slid down into her seat, she cast a nasty look in Greg's direction.

“Hey, lover, your Queen of Steam is back, and to make up for makin' you wait for me, I promise I'm gonna make you real happy.”

While she and Greg made loathsome eye contact with each other, she slowly and sensuously continued to soothe the unsuspecting city of Savannah into a sex-induced coma.

* * * *

Greg fumed. She apparently wasn't going to cool it down, so he turned around and slammed back into his office. He paced back and forth, combing through his hair with his fingers. “That damned bitch is going to get me fired, I just know it.”

When Wade had told him he would be surprised, he expected something wild, but sex on the air hadn't occurred to him. And that music. To anyone else, it was instrumental blues or jazz, but somehow in her expert hands, it became music to fuck by! Smooth horns became slow hands, thrusts, moans, and groans. And if the population didn't have an imagination of its own, she supplied it for them by describing the act in suggestive words without going over the line. He'd never heard anything like it. She might be big in California, New York, or Chicago, but she was just too damned hot for a straight-laced city like Savannah.